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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735077">Favorite Character x Reader One-Shot Fics</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordvomit16/pseuds/wordvomit16'>wordvomit16</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>No Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops &amp; Cafés, Bad Spelling &amp; Grammar, Coffee Shops, Cute, Drama, Fluff, High School, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Multi, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Fluff, School Reunion, Self-Insert</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:54:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,183</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28735077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordvomit16/pseuds/wordvomit16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a compilation of Favorite Character x Reader fics I've written. Tags and trigger warnings will be used accordingly.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Favorite character/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Back Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>When things don't go well in London, (y/n) decides to return to her home country to find solace and comfort. However, a certain someone decides to travel miles just to get to her and ask for forgiveness for the pain he's caused.</p><p>y/n: Your name<br/>y/f/c: Your favorite character<br/>y/f/n: Your friend's name</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> I wish I hadn’t come here in the first place.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This was a mistake.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The high school covered court transformed itself for the night’s event. Strobe lights dance from every corner as they emit every color they could possibly conceive. An omniscient disco ball hangs above, aware of who’s flirting with who, and which couples are about to disappear into the night, even before they know it themselves. The food table stands lonely and abandoned in the distant corner where no strobe light can shine upon it. Standing beside that table in her spaghetti strapped, baby blue dress was (y/n)</p><p> </p><p>After long hours of forced hello’s and awkward small talks, (y/n) confides herself in the small space in between the table and the wall and everyone else instantly forgets that she’s in the room. Perhaps it’s the lack of lighting. Perhaps she’s just a natural wallflower. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. Who knows? All (y/n) knows in this moment was that high school reunions are best left unattended. Former bullies eyeing her from head to toe, former cheerleaders attempting to catch up as if they were once friends, former friends who awkwardly waved hello… Who knew nostalgia can easily be tainted with trauma under a span of mere hours?</p><p> </p><p>And so as the lights continued to dance and enamor everyone else to dance along with it, (y/n) quietly exited the court. She began her journey down the hallways that witnessed her grow up. Despite the pain and the anguish she felt back in the reunion, she can’t deny the happy memories these hallways witnessed: laughing with her best friends, when that senior asked her to prom, singing her heart out with the glee club and everything else. Each turn and each step brought back a certain memory and she was slowly beginning to feel okay again. Perhaps nostalgia is best remembered this way: away from the lights and the commotion. </p><p> </p><p>On her last turn, she felt herself halt involuntarily. Standing in the doorway of the exit is (y/f/c), looking as if he’s contemplating on whether or not he should enter the premises. <em> He shouldn’t be here </em> she thought and, indeed, he was very much out of place. He should be miles away, across the ocean, making his friends laugh in a London pub or hooking up with some other white girl. Not here. Not in (your country). Certainly not in the place where she went to high school. Yet, here he was and (y/n) had to admit that his presence gave her the relief that she didn’t know she needed. After a while, their eyes finally both meet and a familiar warmth rushes from (y/n)’s head down to her toes. All of her questions and shock faded away for the time being. </p><p> </p><p>(y/n) slowly walks towards him. She doesn’t step out upon reaching the door, instead she just stands there, staring at him. (y/f/c) felt as if she was waiting for an explanation. </p><p> </p><p>“I was told you were here,” he said. “(y/f/n) said you attended your reunion so I came here. You probably have more questions, but this is the most basic answer I could give you for now, I guess”</p><p> </p><p>Faint music can still be heard from the covered court. Without blinking, without even thinking twice about the absurdity of the situation, she steps out of the door as she takes hold of (y/f/c)’s hand and they walk away from the noise and the lights together. </p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>It’s been two years since (y/n) last drove down the streets of her hometown, yet it all still feels the same. With her car windows down allowing the air to rush inside, (y/n) allowed herself this moment to steady her breathing. Her heart felt like it could implode in any minute, but the driving somehow helped in collecting her cool. (y/f/c), on the other hand, looked out the window to relieve himself of the tension in the car. It was interesting to look out, anyway, as he’s never been to (your country), let alone (your hometown). (y/n) purposely drove past all the places she’s told him about before: the small eatery where she and her friends would hang out after classes, the park where she had her first kiss, even the mall where she broke up with her first boyfriend. She was hoping he’d recognize these places. After all, she’s told him so many stories about her hometown in such great detail.</p><p> </p><p>After about an hour of driving, they finally stopped on a hillside overlooking the city. This hillside is often filled with parked cars as its owners walked up the rest of the way to this small hilltop café. That night, however, (y/n) and (y/f/c) had the space to themselves. They each solemnly took in the view of what seemed like a thousand stagnant fireflies below them. For a while, they just sat there on the hood of (y/n)’s car, neither of them saying anything. </p><p> </p><p>It was (y/f/c) who broke the solemnity.</p><p> </p><p>“The moment I got out of the plane,” he began. “It all felt familiar because of all of your stories. It’s as if I was getting to know you a little deeper and I was getting closer to you… And honestly, I haven’t felt that in so long.”</p><p> </p><p>(y/n) knew that he was telling the truth. The last few months in London have been particularly difficult for her. Amidst losing her job at the restaurant and failing her classes in university, she slowly began descending into a spiral of depression and misery. She stopped making an effort to get out of the house and would stay in bed for days on end, only getting up to eat. Her friends tried reaching out again and again but she would just shut them out, including (y/f/c). This all went on for a month. Things got to a boiling point when she and (y/f/c) got into a fight about how she’s wasn’t taking responsibility for what was happening to her. Ever since then, she knew she had to get away for a while, and home seemed like the best place she could be at that time… Or so she thought. </p><p> </p><p>“You probably think I’m running away again, huh” she replied. </p><p> </p><p>He shifted uncomfortably. “I know I’ve said some things… Hurtful things… And I’m genuinely sorry. I have no way of fully comprehending what you’re going through so I had no right… But that doesn’t change the fact that I care for you so much… Perhaps that’s why I got so angry. Not because you were depressed, but because it felt like I was losing you”</p><p> </p><p>(y/n) sighed deeply. There seem to be more lights in the city now compared to before. Indeed, a lot can change in two years. </p><p> </p><p>“I decided to go home because I thought I could fix things,” (y/n) began. “I thought I could reconcile with the people who’ve hurt me. I thought that by going back, I’d be able to make peace with all of that trauma. I feel like a lot of things from here is still holding me back, you know?”</p><p> </p><p>(/y/f/c) nodded slowly as he turned his head back towards the city. He didn’t need to ask any more questions. He understood her.</p><p> </p><p>“Honestly,” he began slowly. “I believe there’s just some things that are better left... As it is… And that includes trauma”. (y/n) turned her head to look at him. Everyone knows (y/f/c) to be the funny guy; the one that tickles everyone in a room full of people. Through time, however, (y/n) got to know the introspective and thoughtful young man underneath that goofy exterior. How she managed to keep all of her feelings to herself for two years is something she hasn’t quite figured out yet. </p><p> </p><p>“The pain will always be there, I think, and there are just some things you’ll never get closure from. I mean, pain becomes part of who we are, after all… But that doesn’t mean we can’t start anew and move forward each time we’ve been badly hurt. That’s just how you keep living”</p><p> </p><p>(y/n) continued to gaze at him. Indeed, he was beautiful in all the ways that matter most. However, (y/f/c) physically standing beside her, as blissful as it was, still felt out of place. Not only was he not supposed to be here, but their last fight was so bad that she wasn’t sure if they were still friends. He’d seen her at her worst, she’d driven him away, he must have thought she was pathetic… Or did he, really?</p><p> </p><p>“What brings you here?” (y/n) finally asks.</p><p> </p><p>(y/f/c) continued to look out into the city. “I came here to patch things up with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean I knew that much. But did you really have to fly all the way here? You could have just waited for me to return.” The absurdity of him being here was slowly starting to sink in. </p><p> </p><p>“I couldn’t bear being so far away from you thinking that you hate me”</p><p> </p><p>They felt the embrace of silence almost immediately. What could he possibly mean?</p><p> </p><p>Before (y/n) could even fathom what (y/f/c) meant, he scooted himself closer to her. He looked into her eyes as he took her hand. (y/n)’s brain began to short-circuit, but it was as if her body knew what he intended to say.</p><p> </p><p>“I was also wondering, perhaps foolishly so, if I can help you start anew. Maybe we can figure this out together?”</p><p> </p><p>There were so many uncertainties, so many things still unclear… Yet there he was: her clarity. </p><p> </p><p>She smiled at him softly and held his face with both of her hands. </p><p> </p><p>“You were already part of my healing, (y/f/c). Then and now.”</p><p> </p><p>(y/f/c) gave her a smile of relief. Tears seem to be glistening in his eyes, though she wasn't so sure. "Does this mean you forgive me, then?"</p><p> </p><p>(y/n) says nothing, but leans in to kiss him instead. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Perhaps, none of this was a mistake after all.  </em>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Yours Truly, Your Grammar Nazi</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A young boy gives a love letter to his best friend who happens to be a grammar nazi. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hallo niece and nephew! (get that reference?)</p><p>I had a lot of fun writing this because of its personal roots and origins. Obviously, my grammar still needs a lot of work (ironically), but I do hope you still get to enjoy the story all the same. </p><p>This story is also somewhat inspired by the song "Grammar Nazi" by Reese Lansangan. Go give it a listen!! #opm5ever</p><p>Happy reading~</p><p>- M</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Ugh, there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>way </span>
  </em>
  <span>too many people who confuse their homonyms,” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>F/c looks up from his phone to give attention to the pretty girl sitting right across him. They were seated at their usual table by the window inside their go-to café, drinking their regular drinks; hers is an iced cappuccino, his is a steaming hot caramel macchiato. The café is usually bustling with office men and women typing away at their laptops and university students who’ve just finished their classes. Today was a slow day, however, with only one office woman sitting in the corner and two university students, namely f/c and y/n.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Y/n intently knit her brows as she read through one of the articles from the university paper. “This is supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>their organization, </span>
  </em>
  <span>not </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’re organization,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she frustratingly explains. “The sentence just doesn’t make sense now.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, it sounds the same to me,” F/c teasingly says with a growing grin. Trying hard to suppress her amusement, y/n lightly smacks the paper on f/c’s head while restraining a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I mean,” y/n exclaims, and he did know, but this was their usual banter so this wasn’t out of the ordinary. “But </span>
  <em>
    <span>just in case </span>
  </em>
  <span>you don’t, they managed to mix up their possessives with their personal pronouns. Sure it can be confusing because of the fact that their homonyms but really?? You’d think they’d at least get it right coz they’re literally writing it down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>F/c gives her a lighthearted chuckle. “You really could have just ignored it and move on. Why does it matter so much? I mean… Surely you get the idea that this sentence is trying to communicate from the get-go, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Y/n rolls her eyes at her friend. “Proper grammar and spelling is important if you want to be able to communicate </span>
  <em>
    <span>effectively</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says. “It is possible to forgive quote-on-quote small mistakes such as this one. But if you keep doing it, it’ll become a habit and someday you’re gonna be misquoted or misunderstood just because you didn’t put apostrophes in their proper places or something of the sort.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>F/c chuckles a bit more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Grammar Nazi has struck again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thought. He didn’t mind, though. She’s always been a stickler for proper grammar ever since they first met. Being an English major studying to become an English teacher does that to people, he figured, but that didn’t stop him from falling in love with his best friend. This beautiful, loving, yet sometimes overbearing, best friend of his. He loved everything that was her and about her, including her tendency to correct people’s grammar (out of earshot, though). She even does it to him in the middle of their conversations, which conveniently derails him from what he’s saying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point, ma’am,” f/c concedes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to my worksheet and </span>
  <em>
    <span>stuffs</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stuffs?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Y/n’s eyes pop as wide as her mouth and gives f/c another light smack before they share a laugh together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Such was a normal day in that small university café. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>F/c has been wanting to confess to y/n for quite some time now, but struggled with how to go about it and if he should even say anything to her at all. Y/n went out with dozens of men (all good-looking and well-mannered, mind you) all throughout their friendship, but she never seemed to be genuinely interested in any of them for one reason or another. It would always be a variation of “oh, he likes sports” or “oh, he doesn’t seem to like reading,” and f/c would know that the relationship is doomed. Y/n was as much of a stickler for men as with proper punctuation, spelling and subject-verb-agreements. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then one day, it occurred to him that he could write her a letter. Y/n was a sucker for anything written on a page (books, newspapers, obscure billboards, you name it). So he bought the nicest stationery he could find from his local bookstore, went home and began writing. He spent all night writing the letter with as much thought, care and love as he could possibly muster from within. It had to be perfect, poetic and, most importantly, grammatically coherent and correct with all the right flowery words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The very next day after he finished the letter, f/c and y/n sat at their usual spot at the café. It was a somewhat gloomy Sunday and droplets of rain and mist took over all of the windows, obscuring the view of the outside world. As y/n was reading yet another book, f/c slid the letter across the table and gently nudged her arm with it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” y/n asked, looking up from “The Great Gatsby” to the pink envelope beside her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Read it. But not in front of me,” f/c nervously said. “Read it when you get home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Y/n warily took the letter and tucked it away inside her backpack. She didn’t ask any more questions and went back to her reading, but f/c noticed that she was much more tight-lipped than he’d ever seen her, as if she were in deep thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day, f/c sat alone in the café, waiting for y/n. He had indicated in the letter that she need not respond right away and that he was willing to wait, so he didn’t expect her to ask him to meet that very morning. To say that he was nervous was a complete understatement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>About an hour passed and y/n finally entered the café. She wore a red beret and a blue coat with black tights. Short out of breath, she hurriedly strode across the floor of the café and sat down. She looked in f/c’s eyes for the first time since she entered, but didn’t say a word and just breathed heavily. F/c could tell that she was nervous, but was this a good kind of nervous or the bad kind of nervous? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Y/n reached for her bag, took out the pink envelope and slid it to f/c. F/c could only stare at it for a while and when it was apparent that he wasn’t going to budge, y/n spoke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take it,” she says. “It’ll be over quick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>F/c definitely wasn’t liking her tone. There was an edge to it that he rarely heard from her. That aside, he slowly opened the neatly folded envelope (it was as if she hadn’t opened it at all) and braced himself for whatever he was to see or read. What awaited him, however, was nothing he expected. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was his letter, alright, but it had red ink all over it. Red. Ink. Y/n had edited his entire letter! </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is with this girl, </span>
  </em>
  <span>f/c thought as he bewilderingly re-read his own words with her corrections and editing suggestions. From dangling modifiers to his use of </span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>its, </span>
  </em>
  <span>no grammatical error escaped y/n’s keen eye and inevitable red ink. Every sentence was put under scrutiny. F/c could definitely picture y/n on her desk the previous night, tutting away as she went through his letter… Did she even bother reading </span>
  <em>
    <span>and understanding </span>
  </em>
  <span>its contents? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When f/c finished, he looked up at y/n who was still seated across him. She looked out the window with her hands in her pockets as she fidgeted in her seat. At this point, f/c wasn’t sure what he wanted from her anymore. Was this some kind of game she was playing? A joke he missed the punchline of? A trick?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Y/n finally looked at him and saw his confused gaze. “You didn’t read till the end, did you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” he could only ask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Y/n reached for the paper and looked through it again. She then placed it in front of f/c and pointed at the lower right-hand of the paper. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He read it. He re-read it and then read it once more. The moment f/c understood what y/n’s been trying to say, he looks up at her and slowly smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>F/c smiled his brightest that day. And so did y/n.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Comments: </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><em><span>Take note of where to put your semicolons</span></em></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>Beware of your passive voice. It’s better to use the active voice when writing. </span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>“who” and “whom” are used differently</span></li>
</ul><ul>
<li><span>…. Honestly, you need not try too hard to be poetic just for me to notice you. I’ve been noticing you for what seems like my entire life.</span></li>
</ul><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>P.S. I love you too. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heyo! </p><p>This is the first of the series of fics I'll be writing. I've made it my personal project to write down all the fantasies (heh) and ideas I have involving me and my favorite characters... I just feel like I should put my daydreams to use by writing them down and having people read and enjoy them... So yeah, I hope yall give it a read. Feedback would be greatly appreciated (keep them constructive please!)</p><p>- M</p></blockquote></div></div>
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